


Pretend

by Saral_Hylor



Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post Death?, Sad, Short, Unrequited Love?, i can't decide, read it how you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No amount of pretending will change the fact that the one you're with isn't the one you want to be with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> I got the line _"It wasn't him. He_ knew _it wasn't him. But if he closed his eyes tight enough, he could pretend."_ in my head this afternoon, and while listening to depressing music, the rest of this emerged. 
> 
> I wasn't even sure of the setting of this when I wrote it. I still can't decide if it's an unrequited love fic, or if it's a post death fic.

It wasn’t him. The skin beneath his hands didn’t bear the scars that he’d seen; some wounds he’d even stitched up. The hair tangled around his fingers wasn’t quite the right colour, and a few inches too short. The smell wasn’t quite the same; the subtle scent of gun oil and leather was missing, all that was similar was the faint tinge of sweat and tequila.

He _knew_ that it wasn’t him. But if he closed his eyes tight enough he could pretend.

He could pretend that it was him and not some stranger who looked almost the same; similar enough to make him look twice, but not enough to be mistaken for him. He could pretend that he was somewhere else and not burying his face into the slightly too coarse pillowcase of a cheap motel that smelt of stale cigarette smoke and cleaning products. He could pretend that the hands pinning him down by the backs of his shoulders weren’t so soft; that they had callouses in all the right places.

 

He could pretend that it was him there in the bed with him.

He could pretend it was him.

He could pretend…

 

Who was he kidding? No amount of pretending would change the fact that it wasn’t him.

But, fuck, he wished it was.


End file.
